Semordnilap Palindromes
by Kaycee Columbell
Summary: Kaoru may simply be Hikaru's reflection, but he has thoughts of his own. In fact, thoughts are the only things he does have. Not slash. Title explained inside.


**Semordnilap Palindromes**

**Palindrome:** noun; def: a word, phrase, number or other sequence of units that can be read the same way in either direction.

Antonym: **semordnilap**

**Semordnilap**: adj.; def: a word, phrase, number or other sequence of units that can create a different word when read backwards.

Antonym: **palindrome**

* * *

When pondered, a reflection is an interesting thing. Exactly the same, yet opposite. It's rather contradictory, really. Many believe that a reflection cannot exist without a tangible person for it to reflect. So what do they do when that person is gone?

If a reflection cannot talk without the other, cannot move without the other, how do they pass the time? Forever trapped behind a sheet of glass, waiting for their other-worldly twin to return, they watch and they think. And think. And think and think and think-

Yet one may ask: what do they think about? Do they think about the same things their physical manifestation does? If they truly are the same, that would only make sense.

But they are not the same. They will never be the same. They are, and always will be, each other's exact opposite.

* * *

Do you believe in me, Hikaru? You believe in so many other things. Ghosts, unicorns, Bigfoot... Yet I do not think you believe in me. I suppose that makes sense. You cannot believe in something that you do not know is there. If I could speak to you, just once, I would explain everything. Since I cannot, perhaps I can at least explain it to myself.

You see, not all windows go two ways. It is a common misconception that they do. Well, in your world anyway. In your world, a window is a window; of course it goes two ways. In my world, we know the falsity of The Statement. We laugh at The Statement. It is such a silly statement.

No, not all windows go two ways.

In your world, windows that do not are referred to as mirrors. I like that word. M-I-R-R-O-R. Consonant, vowel, consonant. Consonant, vowel, consonant. A perfect equilibrium. Just like you and I. I wonder if you agree. I wonder what else you agree with. I wonder why. I wonder a lot of things, while waiting for you to wander towards a 'mirror'. There is not much else I can do.

They say that mirrors are windows to the soul. Perhaps that is what I am; your soul. I do look exactly like you. Well, I suppose I do. I would be a rather horrible reflection if I did not.

If I am your soul, that must mean that we think alike. That we look alike. That we are the other halves of each other.

I like that.

You are the one thing I can connect to. The other reflections are too distant to truly connect to. For they are somebody else's soul. Not yours. And I do not much care for anyone other than you. You are me, clearly.

...

But what if I am wrong?

Perhaps I was never meant to be. Perhaps my whole world was never meant to be. Perhaps I am not your soul at all. I could simply be somebody who was never meant to be born. Or somebody who is still waiting to be born. What if I am not your reflection at all.

I do not like that.

...

But of course I am you reflection. You can see me. You must be able to. I can most certainly see you. I can hear you. I know your life. I must be real. Yet I always feel so false. Wrong. Warped. As though I am trapped in one of your special mirrors. The ones you enjoy laughing at in a funhouse.

But it is not fun at all.

...

Sometimes.

...

Other times, I love being you. Like when you practice your artwork, hunched over the desk in the corner of your room. Or when you rehearse your facial expressions for that funny club you love. Or when you bring your friends over, and rehearse together. That way, I have friends, too. Those times are my favorite.

Yes, I must be real. I know it.

I only wonder if you know about me. If you do, it would only be through appearance. That is the only thing you could know. For I cannot speak to you. I cannot leave. I cannot move other than to mimic you.

But I am okay with that. I am content. It is who I am. It is who I have to be.

Because I am you. You are me. In a way, we are each other's reflections. In everything but name.

No, not all windows go two ways, do they?

* * *

**Roses are red, Violets are blue, Thank you for reading, Please leave a review~**

**:)**


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